Guilt
by Nevra Black
Summary: They say I do not feel. I'm a shadow to terrify new recruits, a drone without guilt. Funny. I would have to disagree. Sequel to The Tale of Ravage, One shot.


**This is the sequel bit to the Tale of Ravage, more of a followup, really. It takes place about a year after the original story, and Ravage is still feeling guilt over some of the things she has had to do. Shorter, but it is a follow-up  
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><p>It was the middle of the night when I woke up. The room I shared with my sister was quiet, her quiet sleeping chirps softly coming from within her nest.<p>

I looked down at my paws. My claws were out, fresh cuts in my berth. I could still see that last face, the face of a Neutral mech who had refused to join Megatron's cause, one of many that haunted my sleep. It was contorted in agony as I watched, Shockwave's servos surgically cutting into his body.

I'd had to watch, had to watch his death. I could still hear his screams in my audials. I didn't even know his name. All I remember was his colour scheme, white, green and pale blue, and his optics. Full of terror, but determination. He'd never said anything to Shockwave. He'd had suicide protocols. The last thing I saw was his optics offlining.

I missed the Autobot. He'd been my only friend outside my sister, Laserbeak, for years, despite our different factions and his rivalry with my father. He'd kept me sane with his humour and his music. He was perhaps the greatest mech I'd ever met.

I curled up miserably, trying not to look at the claw marks in my berth.

It took a few minutes for me to realise I was not going to sleep. So I crawled out of bed, padded to the door and crept to the communication room.

I was halfway there when I saw Steve the Vehicon and Breakdown. I hadn't known Breakdown was back from his skirmishes, and it was surprising. I liked Breakdown, since he was friendly to the Vehicons like Steve and Trent, and treated us so called drones with respect. He paused the conversation and smiled at me.

"Hey Ravage."

I nodded to him. "Breakdown." I didn't feel like talking, but he seemed to be in a talkative mood for once. I smelled the reason as soon as I was in front of him. He was drunk.

"Heard about your mission to the Sea of Rust." The blue mech said, even as Steve sighed. I chuckled.

"How do you know about that?" I asked, curiously.

Breakdown shrugged. "I talked to one of the mechs on your team.

"That a fact?" I looked away. That had not been a good mission for me. "That's very nice Breakdown, but I can't talk about it."

Steve looked at me quickly. Breakdown also noted the tension in my tone, but I got it under control. Breakdown frowned, but didn't say anything. He moved on, and I gratefully fled to the room I'd practically grown up in.

The mechs within were almost all new, the others moved, reassigned or dead. Mainly dead.

I walked over to my corner, where there was a window, and curled up on the ledge. Outside, I could see troops coming and going, sometimes the big players. One of the trines, a rogue enforcer called Barricade, who I hadn't met yet, and Airachnid the Psycho Femme.

I could also see the ruins of Cybertron. I bowed my head, and watched. Wondered how Jazz and Prowl were doing. Wondered about the sparkling I'd sensed the last time I'd seen my friend, if it had been a mech or femme, if it had been healthy. I couldn't see Jazz without endangering the sparkling. At least, that was my excuse.

Sighing, I curled up and fell into recharge to the soothing sound of computer monitors and sound bytes.

I woke up to the disapproving visor of my father. I looked up blearily, and groaned. "Uhg. Did I fall asleep in the comm room again."

:Yup!: Said Laser's mental voice. She was resting on our carrier's chest, hooked into the symbiote armour. I got up, looking at my chronometer as I did.

Oh goody. I'd slept in.

I stretched and looked at Soundwave. He seemed concerned.

_"_Query: What bothers Ravage?" He asked in his monotone voice, the one that inexplicably made Laserbeak giggle. I sometimes had to wonder what was wrong with my sister's sense of humour, because it was very odd at times.

I shrugged. "Nothing, father." I lied.

He shook his head. "Ravage: Leaves room in the night, has stress on spark, pulse has fluctuated. Conclusion: Ravage is lying."

"I don't want to talk about it." I told him, brushing past him. Suddenly he grabbed me, lifted me up and walked out of the comm room. He walked all the way to our family quarters, past the other soldiers. Oh, he was so going to get a dead turbo rat in his berth that night, I was so unhappy with him.

When we were safely inside, he sat me on my berth and Laserbeak was asked to leave. She did so, hesitantly, but she did leave.

Soundwave towered over me, and I sighed. This was going to be one of those things.

My father's voice came into my processor. "Alright." He said sternly. "What happened on your mission?"

"Nothing." I repeated. "Nothing!"

"Ravage! There's nothing wrong with telling me. I'm your carrier, not your captain."

I looked at my paws. "Nothing happened. I infiltrated the base. I got the intel."

"Is this about the mech you killed?" He asked, his thoughts conveying a curious emotion, a probing concern. I shied away from it.

"I've killed before. No problem. I did what I had to."

Soundwave chuckled. "You honestly think I believe that, Ravage? I know you don't like killing. If you did, I'd be more than just worried. But you sleep in a room with Laserbeak. Did you think she wouldn't tell me about your nightterrors?"

I shrugged, but kept my head bowed. "Father, I can't tell you what's wrong. I'm sorry."

He patted my helm and sat down next to me. Finally, he said. "Did you think I didn't notice you sneaking out?"

My spark nearly shorted. I kept my face composed, though the discomfort could be felt through the bond. My father went on. "I don't know what you did, Ravage, but whatever it was seemed to be helping you stay sane, and I'd welcome anything that did that. However, I would like to know what happened."

"The war happened." I said softly. "I'm sorry, father. It's just that the mech I killed yesterday reminded me of someone."

I felt servo's on my back, and knew my father was comforting me.

"Who did he remind you of?" He asked gently.

I looked miserably up at him. I wished I could tell him. About Jazz, about Prowl, about the personal agony I kept away from the bond everytime I killed. The place I went to when I killed.

I looked up at my father, and said softly. "If I tell you who, will you tell Megatron?"

He seemed surprised, but he wasn't the Decepticon spymaster for nothing.

"An Autobot." He said tiredly.

I nodded.

"Who?" Soundwave asked. I switched to speak over the bond, not knowing who might overhear in HQ. Paranoia was rampant, and Megatron had gone behind my Father's back a few times.

"You won't be angry, please?" I said quietly.

"I can't promise that I won't be angry, but I trust you not to have given anything sensitive to the Autobot."

He always said it with a certain amount of venom, the name of our enemies. I cringed, because my secret was not only that I was a traitor to the cause, I was a traitor to him.

I inhaled, and sent images over the bond, of finding Jazz in the vent, of our training sessions when he tried to help me get stronger, the two of us simply talking, Jazz smiling at me, comforting me after the death of Ratbat. Seeing the images in my mind caused the pain to return, especially now that I saw the mech I'd killed recently. He hadn't been Polyhexian. He hadn't even been the right frame type. But it had been the color scheme. Black and white paint, like Jazz's, or his mate's. I had easily seen that Autobot with a visor, talking to me about music or Polyhex.

As soon as it was gone, my father was silent, mulling over what he'd seen. I hadn't let him see anything about Prowl and Jazz's relationship, or the sparkling, and definitely not the note of treachery I'd left for my friend. I'd kept that from Soundwave. I looked up at him, up at my father.

"So, now what?"

He looked at me. "Ravage. You have made some, interesting choices. And you have to deal with the consequences. But, I'm willing to do what I can for the nightmares, and the-"

I cut him off. "What can you do?"

My father calmly stroked my helm. "Processor wipe."

"Of what? Jazz?"

He nodded.

"Think about it." He said gently, getting up. He had to report to the Comm room now, ever the loyal Decepticon. He had Autobots to slaughter, just like me.

"I won't force anything on you, Ravage." He told me. And then he left, graceful and deadly, a puppet master and a carrier. It was harder and harder to tell which, these days.

I curled up, checked my schedule and went to report for training. Passing by the reflective surface of the door, I saw the symbol on my shoulder, purple and as glaring as my feline form. Decepticon. Techno-organic. Traitor.

I could have my memories of Jazz removed and replaced with something less dangerous, more fitting for a loyal soldier.

But then, what would I be giving up? A friend, an anchor, a mech who loved music and never hurt me, or feared me for my so called deformity. Who I saw as a brother.

No. No processor wipe. I could cope, because I knew he was alive, and Prowl was too. And they knew I could help them, that I'd never hurt them on purpose. I smiled a little, and prowled down the halls to the training area.

The guilt would remain, but that was a good sign. As long as I felt guilt, I was the big sister to Frenzy, Rumble, and Ratbat. I would hate Shockwave, and Megatron, and other sparkless mechs, and love those who deserved it.

I wouldn't become like them.

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><p><strong>So there's my follow up. I apologize if Ravage is a little OOC, and yes, she's a femme. It seemed logical to make the cat a femme. The Tale of Ravage, and this one, Guilt, are going to tie into my other writing. I have plans that will intertwine them with my other story, with is probably going to be three parts. Two for certain. Anyways, leave a review, or some constructive criticisms, or both. <strong>

**Thanks! **


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